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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737306">why are your shirts so much comfier?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelicbubblegum/pseuds/psychedelicbubblegum'>psychedelicbubblegum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Thir13en Ghosts (2001)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, F/M, Pancakes, Sharing Clothes, Slice of Life, Tilda tries her best at cooking, Tooth-Rotting Fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:54:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>645</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737306</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychedelicbubblegum/pseuds/psychedelicbubblegum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tilda's forced to improvise when she's cold. Subsequently Sawyer is going to have to kiss goodbye to one of his shirts!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s), Tilda Webb/Sawyer Moss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>why are your shirts so much comfier?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidental_Ducky/gifts">Accidental_Ducky</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Is that my shirt?”</p>
<p>Pancakes had never been a dish Tilda Webb could cook easily, and she was loathe to look away from her creations. Fluffing up nicely, for once not messy globs; blotched across the pan in weary dollops, reminding her of yet another culinary disaster she’d managed: Sawyer was always far superior where frying pans were involved (including the use of them as weapons).</p>
<p>Against the windows, the first hints of frost were beginning to creep forth. Tiny spirals of frozen sugar, mapping their way from the panes edge, stretching towards the centre with vigour; but not quite yet successful – warnings of the chill creeping into the air.</p>
<p>Tilda was already beginning to feel the cold already. She’d recovered her warmest pair of sweatpants from the depths of her wardrobe – fleece material, coloured a soft shade of lavender – and clad her feet in her heaviest, woollen socks. Finding the right shirt had proved a much harder task.</p>
<p>Her greatest winter sleep attire – a heavy sweatshirt Lea got for her as a Christmas present, the age old Goosebumps title printed across the black fabric in vibrant green – was in the process of drying, and its secondary choice, a large pale blue top that hung off one shoulder; was whirling in the washing machine. And, under these circumstances, it had been one of her dear boyfriend’s shirts she’d ended up throwing on.</p>
<p>It was far too easily to fall in love with the garment.</p>
<p>This benign matter mirrored Sawyer’s own nature perfectly – that easy, understated charm which was capable of ensnaring the hearts of many, she the most devoted moth to its flame. The swirling tang of pomegranate shower gel and faint scent of strawberries that naturally clung to his skin were set deeply into the ivy cloth: so loose it hung easily on her boyfriends’ skinny frame, and on Tilda’s petite build, the sleeves covered most of her hands, resulting in her rolling them up to prepare breakfast.</p>
<p>Printed in white was simple detailing: a cluster of fern trees inside a simple white circle across the back; the log of the <em>Wesley-Killigan Environment Association</em> revealing the logos affiliation. Vague memories were still lingering in her mind of the trips Sawyer, Livvy and their parents took out there – ‘<em>a break from the city’</em>, Libby liked to say; ‘<em>a break from Dennis Rafkin’</em>, Ben would mutter – and the occasion her own family had accompanied them…</p>
<p>Oversized and easy to move in, she’d become increasingly enamoured as the morning ticked on, readying the ingredients for breakfast, doing a once round the apartment to make sure no uninvited spectres had decided to drop in and checking the mail. The highlight of the latter had been a postcard from Lea – set into her pre-university travelling and now having made her way to Cambodia, where she was almost as taken with the weather as she was the grand scenery – and the truest low had been yet more junk asking if she’d been involved in an accident recently (<em>a fairly astounding claim considering Tilda and Sawyer didn’t own any ladders</em>).</p>
<p>By the time Sawyer had pulled himself from the lair of their bedroom – a nickname coined by her dad, Tilda herself preferred the term ‘cave’; what with the thick curtains and assortment of fairy lights which cast a soothing glow into every corner – the idea of returning the shirt was something she wasn’t entirely keen on. It almost managed to distract her from the pancakes, but stubborn determination and a good dose of pride managed to keep her mind on track.</p>
<p>Alas, her boyfriend was always able to make her lose focus.</p>
<p>A sheepish smile graced her lips as Tilda took in her boyfriend – purple hair fixed in an explosion about his face, edges tangled slightly; a great deal more important than the pancakes – from where he stood. “Well, not anymore.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is literally total schmoop between two love sick cuties who just want a break from fighting the supernatural and cuddle with pancakes (granted who knows how they'll turn out). Sawyer, Livvy and Libby Moss all belong to @Accidental_Ducky - my dear friend and co-writer of this particular Thir13een Ghosts universe!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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